


The Language of Cliches

by n_u_t_m_e_g



Series: Night Vale Ficbits [1]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale, wtnv
Genre: Carlos is a cheesy dork, M/M, and Cecil is a sissy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:44:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n_u_t_m_e_g/pseuds/n_u_t_m_e_g
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil makes secret endevors and sometimes Carlos thinks Spanish is the best way to profess love.<br/>(Or: In which Cecil musters up the guts to talk to Carlos in Spanish, even if it is while Carlos is asleep (so he thinks))</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Language of Cliches

Up until he was thirteen, Carlos spoke nothing but Spanish. Learning English, was, let’s face it: one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He did his studies, and by the time he was fifteen, he was better in English than most of his generation.  
We he moved to Night Vale (the word “moved” felt a little scary on his mind, but at the same time warm and familiar), he had, in all honestly, expected mass of Spanish speakers; since Night Vale, though not on maps, was in New Mexico. 

He was wrong.  
The first time he said anything in Spanish around Cecil, all three of his eyes had gone wide and curious and bright. Cecil had asked him what that lovely, perfect language had been, and Carlos was pretty sure his eyebrows had breached his hairline.  
Turns out Cecil had never heard Spanish, but had heard of it, and was absolutely enamored with it.  
Carlos found himself in a constant state of, Carlos! Carlos, say something in Spanish for me. It wasn’t like he really minded, he didn’t at all, in fact.  
It continued on for a couple of months, but quieted down into the fourth month. 

On the fifteenth day of the fourth month after Cecil fell for Spanish, Carlos’s apartment/lab sudden caught cold fire (but didn’t burn?!) and was covered in fireflies.

So he was staying at Cecil’s. It had been a long day of near-frost-bite experiences and nosy fireflies that really seemed to like floortiles, so when he made his way to Cecil’s, Cecil took one quick look at him and pushed him to the bed, tucked him in, kissed his forehead (Cecil) and stepped out. 

Carlos drifted in and out of sleep for what felt like a couple of hours; his consciousness returned nearly to full power when he felt a dip in the bed beside him. He felt Cecil very carefully tuck his head under Carlos’s chin. 

Carlos knew that if he opened his eyes and greeted Cecil he’d get a lecture about "Carlos, there is a need for sleeping. Sleeping is necessary. And mandated.”, he kept his eyes closed and his breathing steady.

If he’d been even just a little more asleep and a little less awake, Carlos knew he wouldn’t have heard it. Cecil’s voice off air got soft, and just the slightest hesitant; warm and curious as the wind on the desert sands. But he was a little more awake than he was asleep.

Cecil’s said it softly, unsure, but with a vigor that knew this was what to say, and now. Carlos figured Cecil thought he was still asleep. Cecil’s breath was warm against his neck and his voice ever so soft:

”¿Te quedarás conmigo? ¿Para siempre?”  
Si. He thought. He felt a smile lift his lips. Yo me quedaré. Me quedaré contigo para siempre.


End file.
